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Category Archives: poetic monologue

‘If’ a poem of inspiration by Rudyard Kipling

18 Saturday Jul 2015

Posted by meappropriatestyle in inspiration, poems, poetic monologue, poetry

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'If' - poem by Rudyard Kipling, inspirational poem, Rudyard Kipling

 

If

by Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936)

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

 

…

Famed for his imaginative,  fantastical,

wonderful story-telling in prose and in verse

Rudyard Kipling

is one of the most widely read authors in the English language.

To this day, his popularity remains at height.

 

…

Awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature (1907)

he was the first English language writer to receive this honour

and continues with the distinction of being its youngest recipient.

Hounours were heaped upon him, including the submission for knighthood

of which he refused.

…

Written in 1895 and first published in 1910, his poem

If

is a beautifully styled inspirational piece.

It reads as a father giving sound advice to a son:

wise words on how to achieve a positive life and manner of living-

“if” only.

…

The line:

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same

is written on the wall of the players’ entrance at Wimbledon Tennis Courts

and serves as sentiment of encouragement and integrity to fierce competitors.

…

Rudyard Kipling

author of The Jungle Book  (1894)

Just So Stories (1902)

(among many others)

Rudyard Kipling, portrait

…

(image from theguardian.com)

 

 

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Indecision and regret: ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’, a poem by T. S. Eliot

30 Tuesday Sep 2014

Posted by meappropriatestyle in poems, poetic monologue, poetry

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'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock', emotive poem, poem of lamentation, poems, poetry, stream of consciousness, Thomas Stearns (T. S.) Eliot

Written by celebrated Anglo-American poet, T. S. Eliot

‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’

is a poem of lamentation:

regret of words not spoken, actions not taken and dreams unfulfilled.

…

(image from quoteswave.com):

quote on regret and chances not taken

…

Published in 1915, the poem is composed in the stream of consciousness style

allowing the reader access to the speaker’s (Prufrock’s) inner dialogue:

his flow of uninterrupted thoughts.

…

 

The opening stanzas from:

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

by Thomas Stearns (T.  S.) Eliot

…

 

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

 

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

 

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

 

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

 

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

 

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

 

For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
               So how should I presume?
…

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From first to last

19 Thursday Dec 2013

Posted by meappropriatestyle in poetic monologue, poetry

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As You Like It, Jacques (character in As You Like It), monologue, play, William Shakespeare, words to contemplate

“All the world’s a stage …” is the opening line of the monologue

spoken by the character of contemplation –  melancholic Jacques

in the play  As You Like It  by William Shakespeare.

…

Jacques gives voice to description of the life cycle as a seven stage process

from birth to death.

…

(image from shakespeare-navigators.com):

All the World’s a Stage

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

…

(image from last.fm):

…

William Shakespeare, 1564 – 1616

 

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